


A River Runs Through It

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Drama, Gen, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-05
Updated: 2000-01-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:57:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Frannie writes a story similar to Sword of Desire for an online fic list.





	A River Runs Through It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Title:

 

****

Title:

A River Runs Through  
It ****

Ratings: R

****

Pairings: none

****

Spoilers: none

****

Type: Snapshot

****

Disclaimer: I don't own Frannie, though I sure wish I did. J Feedback to

****

Challenge response: RSY list Frannie's Fic Challenge. Write a story as if Frannie were writing a "Sword of Desire"-type story for an online fiction list.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^@@@^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^@@@^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

**__**

A River Runs Through It

 

Frannie tapped her pencil eraser against her teeth, regarding the computer monitor screen thoughtfully. She grinned a little at what she'd already written. She'd only been on the fiction list for a month, lurking, as they called it, reading every delicious word. It was her turn to contribute. 

With a shiver she realized why people became addicted to the 

Internet--it was thrilling to pretend you were someone else, and write out your fantasies, living them vicariously. 

She glanced around the empty squadroom to be sure she was alone. Most of the officers and Detectives were covering the Pope's visit. Ma would freak if she knew Frannie skipped it. Even Lt. Welsh was on the street, waiting. All in all, it was a day of free time. The phones were eerily silent. The footfalls of the few remaining echoed through the dead halls like a ghost's.

Squiggling in her soft chair to get more comfortable, Frannie sipped her chocolate almond cappuccino and set down her pencil.

She began to type.

__

Jaella gripped his waist tighter, clutching his belt buckle with fingers gone numb from the chill wet wind despite the fall warmth. She pressed her hips forward for balance, feeling his own buck with the motion of the great dapple steed.

Leaning back slightly, she freed her mass of auburn curls to the merciless wind and let the forest green satin ribbon fly off on the swirling air. Heavy with foggy moisture, her curls clumped together in thick, sensuous tendrils that streamed like a banner behind them, whipped into a frenzied dance.

She had no idea where Darien was taking her. No one knew they were together. She couldn't believe it herself. She despised this man. She loved him...secretly. They fought all the time. He hated her...or so she thought.

Images tumbled through her mind. Their fight earlier. She had told him to get the hell out of her father's kitchen. How dare he touch her hand! His face as he stopped at the door and whirled on her, blue eyes raging like the hurricane-whipped Atlantic, Adonis-like features flushed and distorted with anger and determination. She turned her back on him. He strode over to her, and swept her over his shoulder. She screamed as he yanked her up onto the horse behind him. And here they were.

Her heart pounded. Lungs gasped. Her ears rang with the melody of blood, wild fire of passion, and beat of hooves on wet grass. The wind numbed her cheeks and carried the scent of rain and of him. His wild, manly scent--like primordial earth, wet rock and the slight musky tang of sweat. She shivered. His scent touched her deepest core. It triggered instincts hidden deep in her hippocampus, as universal and base as when man first walked upright. She was lost to its furious, insistent pounding inside her.

She battled the urge to throw him from the galloping steed and ravish him like a two-dollar whore. Clinging to him with one hand, she let her other roam across his back lightly, so that he could not feel it. He urged the horse faster, into a full-speed rush across the wide wild meadow. Wildflowers gyrated around them, a rainbow waltzing with the stormy winds.

She could feel his muscles ripple beneath his dark flannel shirt as he fought to control the beast. His dark hair curled wildly with damp wind, fog and sweat. She bit her lower lip to keep from reaching up, and threading her fingers through the dark mop. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing she wanted him. He was probably bringing her out here, far from her father's home, to abandon her and make her walk back in the approaching thunderstorm.

Suddenly, he reigned the horse to a stop. She looked around, her vision blurred by excitement and the wild ride.

Wordlessly, he slid from the saddle in front of her, and led the horse closer to the covered bridge. She saw that they were alone. She had come here often as a small girl. The ancient wooden bridge covered a small patch of river rapids. The road was long closed, the bridge unused. She snorted a little. If he abandoned her here, she would simply sleep under the shelter of the bridge until morning when the fog and rain had dissipated, and walk the five miles home in the sunshine.

Her gaze fell upon him, as he led the tired animal. His trousers clung to him damply, outlining every feline movement of his long legs. Her bosoms heaved in response, pounding blood deafening her. She licked her lips in a very unladylike fashion. 

He tied the harness to the bridge support so the animal could reach both water and grass, then turned to her. A look she couldn't identify was on his face. His eyes looked softer, somehow. All the rage had left him.

She hefted her chin and looked down on him. "I suppose you mean to leave me here? Daddy will horsewhip you, you know."

He didn't answer, simply extended his hand to her.

She scowled at it, suspecting a trick. "I can dismount myself, pal. I've spent years riding." She dismounted smoothly, standing a few feet from him with her arms crossed.

"Suit yourself," Darien muttered, spun on his boot heel and strode onto the bridge. He stopped near a support, leaned on the thick wooden rail and gazed into the dancing trees lining the river.

She frowned. He was ignoring her. She hadn't counted on this. How dare he! She stomped over and stood behind him. "Whatever you plan to do to me, do it now or let me leave!" she demanded.

He laughed, the sound echoing from the trees. "You think too much of yourself, wench."

Her mouth fell open. For a moment she was speechless. Squaring her small shoulders, and pulling her petite frame up, she smacked him on the arm. "Turn around so I can belt you in the face."

He chuckled, but didn't turn.

"Coward."

He frowned and whirled about abruptly. She jumped back a step and raised her arm. He caught it in a painful grip as it descended. She winced and yanked, but he held her fast.

"Let go!"

"Do you get everything you want?"

"What? No!"

"Yes, you do and you always have. You're a spoiled brat," his words carried a venom that struck her like a slap to the face.

Her mouthed moved soundlessly, gaping like a fish out of water. Tears of anger formed in her doe-brown eyes. She swept them away with the back of her hand. "You're a cretin," she spat the words at him.

He smiled that beautiful, arrogant smile that made her knees tremble. "Big word for such a little lady."

"I'm not a lady. Hey! I am a lady and you damned well better not forget it."

"I wouldn't take you if you were the last woman on Earth." He stalked a step toward her. She stepped back, as if in a waltz.

"I'd drown myself right here, if you were the last man on Earth," she returned, taking a step forward. She stared up at him, meeting his eyes unwaveringly.

"I'd help you," he snapped, stepping closer. 

They were so close that her nose nearly brushed the fabric of his shirt as he breathed. He could smell the shampoo in her mussed hair. 

She stared up at him, fuming, unable to form words. He stared down at her, anger slowly being replaced by desire.

He blinked, suddenly, and licked his lower lip, gaze dropping to devour her plum-ripe lips, her flushed cheeks giving her the look of a siren.

When he met her eyes once more, she saw desire stalking behind his gaze like a tiger on the prowl. Her hands trembled, and she realized her own body echoed the untamed passion she saw in his blue eyes. Unconsciously, she reached up and snaked her hand around his neck, dragging him down into a kiss that left them both gasping for air.

He spun her, hands roaming her body, memorizing the tactile feel of every inch of her. She kissed him mercilessly, ripping open his shirt without looking. Buttons rattled from the woodwork and plunked into the tumultuous rapids below. She shoved him back against the bridge support, leaning back to catch her breath and look at his chiseled chest. The muscles were tanned and his washboard abs heaved with every gasping breath. 

She leaned forward and tasted his chest, licking all of the exposed skin. He could stand no more. He took her by the shoulders and lifted her sideways, setting her on the railing. She leaned back against the exterior support, the water swirling to one side and below her. The gurgling, churning water echoed her heartbeat.

He opened the bosom of her dress, exposing her body to his hungry blue eyes. He caressed her with gentle, yet insistent hands, lips returning to plunder her mouth. She wrapped her slender legs around his waist, trapping him against her.

Above them, thunder clapped and the pregnant clouds burst with cool rain. The mist washed over them and the falling drops drowned out the gurgling river like the sound of stampeding horses. Jaella felt her innermost core echo the downpour. Her thighs spasmed so hard she was sure she broke his ribs. 

He pulled back from her. She felt suddenly bereft, abandoned, until he expertly slid her panties down, and sacrificed them to the storm. 

He entered her in time to a clap of thunder. Conscious thought vanished from them both. They were lost in the wild passionate throes of nature and emotion, swept along with the wind and rain, one with each other and the storm. Plunging from the precipice over and over again until the world itself disappeared.

And they were alone. And in love.

 

 

Frannie sat back, and gasped in a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Breathing quickly, she glanced around the station, relieved to find herself still alone.

Whew, she thought, I need a cold shower now. 

With a sip from her now cold cappuccino, she dialed up her server and hit send.

 

**__**

The end. 

^^^^^^^^^^^@@^^^^^^^^^^^@@^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Feedback?? Pretty please with Mounties and Mangoes on top?

Aphroditetoo@aol.com

^^^^^^^^^^^@@^^^^^^^^^^^^@@^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
